Sickly, Undoubtedly

It's a bit of a morbid comedy. I feel as though it could have been better.

The nicotine on my
breath
the lonely nights I never
slept
I blame you.

Churning like old fashioned
butter
mind of cold and compassionate
clutter
I blame me.

I must be sick, all I do is
rhyme
all I have to spare is
time
not a heart nor a single
dime
and my literature is mediocre.

Soaking in jars of vinegar,
a vegetable,
a cucumber,
a life with no life at all.

Reviews

[freelancejouster]

morbid comedy indeed, i'm my smile went to a grimace in an instant. i quite enjoyed this :)

[Nobody.]

not so mediocre from where I'm reading.
good flow...lots of emotion...especially liked the last stanza.
cheers!

[Alessander]

hmmmm...this is a little complaining about everything...life, love, art. I like the imagery of soaking jars of vinegar...